Pregnancy-Induced Run-On Sentence

You know how the maternity crazies turn you into (more of) an idiot? Like when you have cramping and nausea and interpret it as the baby's brain turning inside out or as a sign you're about to spontaneously miscarry after fifteen weeks of perfectly normal pregnancy but it turns out it was probably just the McDonald's sausage biscuit you ate for breakfast? Yeah, that sucks.

Hey! Previously unheralded benefits of getting sick at work on the weekend: an overabundant selection of newly-cleaned toilets. I've been hesitant to admit this to you internet, but I LOVE being the first to use a freshly cleaned toilet. Am I alone in this? I suppose it really only counts if you're the one who didn't have to clean it in the first place, but I experience a little thrill when I get to put the seat down. (NOTE: this "seat up" excitement only exists at work, when it signals the custodial staff has just been there. The sentiment goes distinctly in the other direction when it is the result of a forgetful dude at my house.)

Being the first to sully a sparkling privy is usually a nice bonus, but when you're puking in a semi-public place, it's really more of a requirement. Hurling is difficult enough, it need not be compounded by thoughts of "Hmmm, mere seconds ago, someone else's ass was in the space my head now occupies." (For me, anyway, that relief is usually only granted by extreme drunkenness. You know what? I think it's better when it's provided by the janitor.)

Speaking of pristine commodes:

I christen thee: The Flying WASP.

Okay, Bump officially christened it, but it's probably best not to think about that.

As of Friday, we have a fully functioning bathroom. I KNOW! How awesome is that? Why, yes, for those of you following along at home that does mean we were without a shower for more than two weeks - a full nine days longer than anticipated. Thanks for pointing that out. Why, no, I'm not bitter about that at all. Not at all. Ermf.